


Long Road

by Efstitt



Series: Pre-Strike Jack Hurts and two Post-Strike [4]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Crutchie Race and Albert make a brief appearance so don't expect much, F/M, Family, Katherine is trying but yikes, References to abuse and violence, There is one fight but it’s not graphic, Whump, but not till chapter 9, maine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-26 15:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Efstitt/pseuds/Efstitt
Summary: Transitions are hard. Jack tries to start a new life. Old ways and memories die hard. Katherine means well. My summaries are always crap.
Relationships: Jack Kelly/Katherine Plumber
Series: Pre-Strike Jack Hurts and two Post-Strike [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521518
Comments: 22
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

Conrad

Jack was late. We had calls to make, and I was very clear about that at breakfast. “Yes, sir,” he had said. He’s never late. We haven’t even been back very long, and he’d started a habit of coming straight from the store to do the inventory of my bag for me before we left on calls. Breakfast and dinner were enough for him, he said.

I checked his room. Well, the storage room with the cot in it. His room. It was immaculate, as usual, the blanket neatly folded at the foot of the cot. He didn’t have any belongings to speak of, although I know he wants to buy another shirt so he looks nicer in the store. He had already installed a hook on the back of the door so he’d have a place to hang it once he bought it. He wasn’t there, in any case, that much was clear.

I poked my head out the door again. No sign of him. Frustrated, I started to walk over to the store. Graham had been good about letting him go on time. What was the problem?

No. No no no no no. What was this? Someone was shouting, a woman. Was that Gloria? No no no. And who was that in the street? I picked up my pace. Jack was kneeling in the street, facing the store, hands behind his head, with something on the ground in front of him. I saw Connor approaching from the other direction. I started to run. A few people had started to gather around to watch this spectacle.

“I knew it! I told Graham this was a bad idea! Officer Connor, thank goodness,” Gloria cried. “I knew he was no good, and here he is, caught red handed!”

I looked around for Graham as I got to the store, pushing my way past a few people to get to Jack. Then I remembered it was Tuesday, Graham’s day in Portland to pick up supplies. Gloria was in front on Tuesdays. Jack stayed where he was, hands up, a salami on the ground in front of him. He looked at me. Angry. Silent. Seething.

“Gloria, what is going on,” Connor asked, coming up next to me. “Please stop shouting.”

“This boy, the one my husband thinks is so marvelous, is obviously still a thief and you need to arrest him,” she said, pointing at the salami. “He told me this boy had been in prison, and Dr. Schmidt here was going to teach him better or some nonsense, and here he is, stealing the first chance he gets.”

“Jack, is this true?” Connor asked him.

Jack looked startled at the question. He slowly turned his head toward Connor. “No, sir,” he answered, sounding as bewildered as he looked. “I didn’t steal this.”

“What are you doing with it here, then?” Connor asked. Jack was silent. 

“Jack,” I said. “What happened?” 

Jack

He loved working for Conrad. He also enjoyed working in the store and seeing how it all worked. Graham had been pleased that he could add and calculate percentages so quickly. Being a newsie had been good for something after all, Jack thought. And Graham had already started teaching him about the scales and how to approximate the weight of various goods. Jack didn’t want to tell him that it felt really nice not to be in a store to steal something. Graham might take that the wrong way, like Jack wanted to steal, or missed stealing. But Jack couldn’t help noticing that it would be very easy to steal if he’d wanted to. How could he tell Graham that, though? It would sound like he’d been thinking about taking something.

So yes, Jack had noticed the kid this morning, who came in and didn’t seem to know what he wanted. Gloria had been in the basement getting items to restock the shelves, leaving Jack to mind the store. Jack watched the boy, recognizing his pace, his way of looking around, of watching Jack as he worked. This kid had stolen before, Jack thought. It’s so obvious. So when the boy took the salami and ran out the door, Jack took off after him. He caught the boy easily enough. 

“Look, just give it back. I’ll get you something to eat, okay?” Jack said quietly. “Come back to the store and I’ll buy you some food and we can do this right.”

The boy struggled, but Jack had a firm grip. “Hey, stop.” Jack shook the boy a little. “Ain’t worth going to jail over a salami, I promise.”

The boy looked up at Jack. “Fine, here,” he said, throwing the salami on the ground. And then he took off. Jack sighed, picked up the salami, and walked back to the store. 

Gloria was waiting for him. “I thought maybe you quit,” she said angrily. “You left the store unattended. What if someone had come in? What if someone had...” She saw Jack holding the salami. “I see,” she said, her voice rising. “It wasn’t a customer who stole, it was you. Couldn’t resist, could you? Graham away, me alone in the store.”

Jack’s eyes widened as he realized what she was saying. He walked faster toward her and the store. “Mrs. Hatcher, no,” he started, putting his hands up in front of him.

“Don’t come any closer,” she nearly shouted. “I know you’ve been in prison. I won’t be threatened by you, young man. You keep your distance. Help! Someone get Officer Connor!”

Jack froze. He knew Conrad had told Graham a little about his past, but it had not occurred to him that Mrs. Hatcher knew. She saw him not just as a thief, but someone who would attack, even with his one hand still bandaged. He thought about the days he begged in New York. The ladies who feared him until he learned to beg on his knees. Same thing here, he thought angrily. Jack dropped down, putting the salami on the ground and his hands up. Same shit all over again. He heard Connor coming. It’s over. He should have stayed in New York. Or gotten on another train. Connor would beat the shit out of him, then jail, then it would start again. And Katherine, gone forever.

He heard Connor ask him if Mrs. Hatcher’s claim was true. Was he serious? He wanted Jack to speak? “No, sir,” he said, wondering if it made any difference what he said. “I didn’t steal this.”

He heard Conrad ask him what happened. What could he say? Tell them a boy had stolen it? What if they figured out who it was? There must be a Refuge in Maine. He couldn’t send some kid to that. At least Jack was used to jail. Maybe there was another way.

“I didn’t steal it,” he started. “If I wanted to steal it, I wouldn’t have done it with ten minutes left in my shift. I would have taken it on my way out the door. I wouldn’t be holding it in my hand, and I sure wouldn’t be walking back to the store with it, like you saw me doing, Mrs. Hatcher. I’d have it in my shirt and I sure as hell would be getting as far away from the store as I could.” Why did he say hell. Well, they won’t believe him anyway. Conrad would be mad he’d done so much for him, and now this. Convict. It would never go away. He got ready to be hit. 

”Well, if you didn’t take it, who did,” she snapped. Still no movement from Connor. Jack had better answer.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I ain’t seen him before, and I found the salami on the ground.” Also true, he reasoned.

“Gloria, please,” Jack heard Conrad say. “Let’s go inside with Connor and work this out.” And before he knew it, Conrad was pulling him up to his feet and going with him inside. Going with him. No cuffs. No blackjack. Connor didn’t touch him.

Conrad

Jack obviously thought he was going to be arrested no matter what. Even in the store he stayed away from Connor, and close to the door, I noticed. He watched Connor the entire time. It became clear that Jack was not guilty, even if he wouldn’t tell us who the culprit was. By this point we were ridiculously late for some of our calls, and with Connor’s permission I took Jack with me, saying that if he needed more information from Jack he could simply find me. Graham would be back later in the afternoon and he and Connor and Gloria would go over things again. I felt good about Jack going back to work there tomorrow, especially with Graham back, but he was on edge all afternoon. He did as I asked at every visit, but did not say very much at all. Gloria had clearly overreacted, but with time she would see the good in Jack, I was sure.

On our way back to the clinic at the end of the day, Jack finally said more than “Yes, sir” to me.

“Conrad, am I going to jail? Is Connor waiting for me?” he asked, not looking at me.

“What do you mean? It’s all cleared up, I promise.” I was stunned. Had he been worried about this all afternoon?

“You said he could find you if he had more questions. So let’s say he has more questions. Does he take me to jail to ask them?” Jack still wouldn’t look at me.

“Jack, that was just a formality,” I replied. “We went over everything, remember? As hard as it is to believe, the fact that you knew how you would steal something actually helped you prove you were innocent. And you knew, however regretfully, to keep your distance and put your hands up when Mrs. Hatcher started to shout at you. Connor saw that too. He is a cop, you know.” And instantly I felt bad, reminding Jack of all people that Connor was a cop. Jack didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But even if he did have more questions, we could do it in the clinic or, at most, at Connor’s station.”

“The ladies were afraid of me. When I begged sometimes. They thought I was dangerous. So I learned to beg on my knees. That’s how I knew what to do,” Jack spoke like I wasn’t even there, like he was talking to himself. The humiliation was tangible. 

I was silent for a while. “Those days are over. You won’t have to do that ever again.”

”But I had to do it today, didn’t I,” he said. “Ain’t nothing changed after all.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Excuse me, young man, but could I have three pounds of sugar please?”

Jack whipped around.“Kath! What are you?? When did you?” He stopped and grinned. “Yes, miss, I’d be happy to get you three pounds of sugar. Right this way.” He rushed down to the end of the counter and swept Katherine up in his arms. Oh, she felt good. He looked around quickly to see if the Hatchers were watching, and stole a quick kiss from Katherine. He held her face in his hands, relieved not to have his bandages on any longer. “Would you like anything else with that, miss?”

“Yes, please,” she said, remaining aloof. “Could you point me in the right direction? I am looking for a promising young man named Jack Kelly. He should be around here somewhere, and would be quite upset to see you kissing me.”

“He’d break my arm, probably, if he saw that,” said Jack. “I’ll go get him.” He took off his apron, spun around on one foot in a full circle, and looked at Katherine. “Kath! What are you doing here??” She laughed and they leant in to touch foreheads.

Jack heard Mrs. Hatcher come into the front room of the store and pulled away from Katherine. He cleared his throat. “Katherine, this is Mrs. Hatcher. Mrs. Hatcher, this is Katherine...” he trailed off. Did she want to use Pulitzer or Plumber? 

“How do you do, Mrs. Hatcher,” said Katherine quickly. “Jack has told me how much he has learned working in your store.” Gloria Hatcher looked Katherine up and down. She sees we don’t match, Jack thought. Something ain’t right.

“Katherine? Do you have a last name?” Mrs. Hatcher asked.

“Pulitzer,” Katherine replied smoothly. Damn, thought Jack. That’s my girl. Kath ain’t afraid of her. Jack had written to her about the whole salami episode, so Kath knew what Mrs. Hatcher thought of Jack. He’d tried hard the last few weeks to get on her good side, and while she hadn’t accused him of theft since then, neither had she been particularly sorry. It had taken Jack forever to write that letter. His hands just didn’t like writing all those little letters. But Conrad said it would be a good exercise, so Jack stuck with it and got it done eventually. Conrad started dictating his prescriptions and directions to Jack after that, so that Jack would get more writing practice.

Mrs. Hatcher’s eyebrows went up. 

“Yes,” said Katherine. “Joseph Pulitzer is my father. Now, Mrs. Hatcher, I’ve been dying to write a story about Westbrook and your store for the society pages in Boston. My friends who vacation in Maine are always looking for new places to visit, and I thought this would be ideal. Do you think we could chat sometime, and you could help me with this story?”

“Yes, of course,” replied Mrs. Hatcher. “Let me get Mr. Hatcher for you and we can discuss the details.” She scurried out of the store and into the back rooms.

Jack looked at Katherine admiringly. “Miss Plumber, you are a worse criminal than I am,” he said, touching her cheek again. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Kelly,” she answered. “Now, please point me to the home of Dr. Conrad Schmidt. His cook is waiting for me. I am to board with her, you know. Someone once told me she’s real nice.”

“What about Mrs. Hatcher?”

“What about her?” Katherine asked, shrugging. “Just tell her I’ll be back this afternoon.” Jack stifled a laugh and led her outside by the hand. He turned her shoulders to the right, and gave her directions to Conrad’s house. “I work for Conrad at noon,” he said. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, or why you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Toodle-oo,” Katherine waved as she carried her bag down the sidewalk. Jack tied his apron back on and went back to work. Even Mrs. Hatcher couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, and was she mad that Katherine left without setting an interview date. Jack was sent to the basement to re-do the inventory he’d done yesterday, but he didn’t care.

Conrad and Katherine were at the clinic by the time Jack got off work at the store. Jack couldn’t help himself and went straight to Katherine for a kiss and threw his arms around her.

“On your own time, Jack,” said Conrad. “I thought you could give Katherine the grand tour of the clinic and then we have work to do. Katherine says she needs to talk to Gloria Hatcher this afternoon.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Schmidt,” said Jack, mumbling into Katherine’s ear and hair. “Kath, if you look over my shoulder, you will see the waiting room we are standing in. If we turn around, you will see the exam room and door to the washroom.” He shuffled the two of them around so she could see it, as she started to laugh. “And over there, you will see the door to the storage room. Conrad stores me in there overnight.” He finally pulled away from her, opened the storage room door, and she glimpsed the cot and shelving. 

“Time to go, Jack,” Conrad sighed.

“Yes, sir, Dr. Schmidt, sir,” said Jack, kissing Katherine’s arm and hand before finally having to let go. “I’m coming.”


	3. Chapter 3

Katherine

I went to see Mrs. Hatcher that afternoon, as promised. Notebook in hand, I could see that she was clearly excited to be the one chosen for this interview.

I made sure to cover the history of the town, the history of the store, and her family history. Then on to her marriage to Graham and their thriving business, doing well enough to take Jack on for a while to teach him how to run a business. I admired her success and willingness to show Jack some charity. She puffed up. I was finally invited to call her Gloria. Now we’re ready, I thought.

“Gloria, now, could you please tell me how the leaders of this community, such as yourself, care for the poor and needy? What kinds of charitable organizations do you run?” I asked.

”Well, naturally the ladies of the church offer hams to the poor at Christmas, and we send donations to the missionaries regularly. And we collect clothing for the orphanage in Portland at Thanksgiving,” she replied. All noteworthy and important, and I made sure to take my time writing it all down. A good start.

“This is excellent information for my friends in Boston, although it seems most of the activity takes place during the fall and winter holidays, and they are typically here in summer. To what efforts might they be able to contribute during the warmer months?” I asked innocently.

“My dear, in New York you might see greater need year-round, but here in Westbrook there isn’t that kind of demand for charity from the poor. We are thrifty and more self sufficient up here.” Gloria smiled indulgently at me.

“I see. How very fortunate you are. But didn’t you just recently have an incident at your store? Of theft?”

Gloria’s eyes narrowed a little. “I was not wrong to suspect a former convict of theft. It was only natural.”

“But the true culprit was a child,” I pressed on.

“We have children who play silly games here,” Gloria said dismissively. “And Jack explained himself and still works at the store.”

“And he is grateful, I know,” I said hurriedly. “He speaks very highly of the opportunity you have given him, and is truly thankful. He tells me how hard he tries to do everything right for you. But this child... a child doesn’t steal a salami as a game. Doesn’t this incident point to a need in your community? That there are hungry children here?”

“I don’t know,” Gloria said a little coldly. “We would know more if Jack had identified the guilty child. We could have asked him.”

“Do you know what Jack stole when he was sent to jail? A coat. And food, from stores very much like yours, very much like this boy in your town. Jack was hungry, with no one taking care of him. He knew what was going to happen in your store the other day because he had done it himself. He knew what that boy was thinking by the way he acted.” I stopped. I was coming on too strong.

“Gloria, would you be willing to entertain an idea?” I asked.

“What might that be? To listen to you tell me all the things we do wrong here?” Gloria folded her arms. I had indeed gone too far. I looked at her apologetically, and sincerely so.

“Gloria, no. Not at all. But think of this. Jack can help you. He can help you reduce theft in your store because he knows what he would do if he were still as desperate as he was. And you’ve helped him now. You pay him a decent wage, and he is saving that money to go to school. You’ve made a big difference for him. And maybe you could think of a way to help the poor year-round. Vacationers would surely help, and would want to come here to see your work. And shop.” I took a breath. Jack had no idea what I was doing, but he’d hardly object, would he? And he couldn’t keep working here with Gloria watching his every move. He’d make a mistake at some point and this whole arrangement he had would collapse. If he could do something special for Gloria, like help with theft, she would get to know him better, and know he was so much more than a thief. I was so glad Jack had told me about his trouble with Gloria, because now I could help him.

Jack

That evening after dinner Jack asked Katherine if she would like to go for a walk. The nights were getting longer. He glanced at Conrad, who nodded his approval.

“Kath, you still ain’t told me why you’re here,” he began. “I love it, but what’s going on?” He swung her hand in his.

“I wasn’t lying about the society pages in Boston, Jack,” Katherine said. “I have a job offer waiting for me there. It’s closer to you, even if it’s not perfect, right? And I am taking the Boston job offer to the newspaper in Portland to see if they would want to match it.”

“Smart girl, huh,” said Jack, grinning at her. “I admire smart girls. Smart, independent...” He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. 

“So what do you think?” she asked. 

“Portland better snap you up, is what I think. Like this,” he said, snapping his lips on her ear. “Does your father know?”

“Not yet. Not until I’ve made a decision. He thinks I’m visiting friends in Boston right now.”

“Close enough,” said Jack.

“Jack,” said Katherine, slowing down. “Is that the cemetery?”

Jack stopped. “Well, yes, Miss Pulitzer, you have identified a cemetery.” He turned around, but Katherine did not turn with him.

“Will you show me?” she asked.

Jack didn’t know what to say. He’d been having such a nice time. Why ruin it now? He liked Westbrook, but had studiously avoided the cemetery after seeing his mother’s grave on his first day. If he forgot she was here, he felt fine. But if Kath wanted to see it, he guessed he could take her there. Get it over with. He took her to the grave and stood there, watching the sky change colors as the sun set. Kath looked at the grave marker.

“You don’t bring flowers?” she asked. Do what? Flowers? Is that something people did, he wondered. Why? These folks were dead. And that would mean coming here to put them down, and thinking about Mama. Forget it. She’s here, but that don’t mean I gotta think about her, thought Jack.

“No,” he answered. “So now you seen it. Let’s go.” They walked out of the cemetery, Jack relieved that that was done. Jack tried not to feel angry at the ruined night. He walked faster with Kath, trying not to hurry her but almost wishing she could go home and he could just get back to to the clinic. He needed to breathe. So much was going right, and then she wanted to see the grave? Why? It wasn't her mama. He squeezed Kath's hand hard and tried to smile at her. The clinic. No one would see. Would she say yes? He pushed past the lump in his throat. It wasn't her fault. Just breathe, Kelly. Relax.

“Hey, Kath. Look there. I can take you indoors now,” he said. “Would you like another tour?” Katherine smiled up at him, and Jack couldn’t get the door open fast enough. He slammed it shut behind them. “See? Indoors.” He pulled her close, kissing her, rubbing his hands up and down her sides.

“Kath, can I?” he asked. She nodded, still kissing him, moving down his neck to his collarbone, undoing his shirt buttons. Jack lifted her up. “I can offer you a choice, Miss Pulitzer. Would you prefer the cot or the exam table?” he gasped, as she put her hands on his chest and kissed his neck again.

“Cot,” she murmured. Jack stumbled into the little room and laid her gently on the cot. Not built for two, that was for sure, but so far so good. She pulled his shirt back and kissed him from neck to waist. How did she know to do that? Jack thought he was going to die. Her hands were all over him. He had to kiss her. He pulled her up and lost all track of time.

Conrad

Katherine came to the house the next day at my request, after Sam and Sarah left for school, and I knew Jack would be at work at the store. I had rescheduled the appointments in the clinic. Obviously we needed to talk about Jack. I needed to talk about Jack. He was a different boy with her around: confident, sweet, charming, flirtatious the way a boy should be. He had lit up last night at dinner, with her by his side. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. And I saw him reach for her hand under the table, but said nothing. It made me smile as I got ready for bed last night.

Once we were settled with some tea in the parlor, I turned to Katherine. “You have brought out a side of Jack I haven’t seen before, Katherine. He is clearly mad for you, which I knew, but I have rarely seen him this relaxed. You’re very good together.”

Katherine smiled. “I’m glad you think so. He’s so happy here, working for you and for the Hatchers. Well, Mr. Hatcher, anyway. I don’t know where Jack would be without you. It is so very sad about Mary, and I am so sorry for your loss, but you have been very good about trying to help Jack anyway.”

Now was the time to ask. She was waiting for it, I was sure.

“Katherine, I can’t help but wonder, that is, I am very aware of the physical abuse he endured in the Refuge. I’ve seen his scars. But he still tells me he’s a convict, that he’s ignorant. He wants to work towards passing this entrance examination, and does everything I ask when it comes to studying, but he doesn’t seem to believe that he can actually do it.” 

Katherine paused before answering me. She spent the next hour detailing Jack’s time after Mary left, from the neighbors taking him in to the end of the strike. The abuse and degradation. The constant hunger. She'd seen him steal the very first time they met, even. I still cannot fathom how my dear wife had left her son to those circumstances. I still struggled to hear about Mary's time at the brothel. How was this the same woman? But Jack. The guardedness around adults, his fear of Connor, his defiance, his default to violence, his reluctance to “owe” me, his thoughts about his abilities. His standard of eating most days and sleeping indoors as signs of success. It all made sense now, as if I had had two pieces of a three-piece puzzle, and now had the third piece.

Jack

Desperate?? She had called him desperate? Jack had thanked Mrs. Hatcher for letting him think about how to rearrange some areas of the store so they would not have as much theft, but he had not thought Katherine would tell her so much about his past. A thief, yes. Mrs. Hatcher knew that, as now half the town knew after her shouting at him in the street. But she didn’t have to know all that about the coat, or being... desperate. It was true, he knew in his heart. Desperation, daily. But she didn’t have to tell everyone that. He had started new here. With a job that paid real money. His own room. And close to buying a second shirt. A new one at that. Not desperate. Poor, yes. That didn’t bother Jack. He never thought he’d be anything but poor. But desperate...


	4. Chapter 4

Conrad

“What?” Jack asked me as we loaded up the carriage that afternoon. “What did I do? I’ll fix it.”

“Nothing,” I said. “You’re doing fine.”

“You’re looking at me like I did something.”

“Not at all. Go get my coat from the exam room and we’ll be set.” I was doing a bad job pretending I didn’t know all the details now.

“Sir,” he said, and trotted back inside to get my coat.

Jack

Jack was relieved to be done at the store that morning. He hadn’t minded Mrs. Hatcher being somewhat cool towards him the last few weeks. He did everything she asked. Graham liked him. Nothing bad was happening, and they paid him on time and in full. What more did he want? If he made a mistake, Graham made him fix it. Graham didn’t hit him for it. Jack did have to pay for the jar he dropped, but that seemed fair. And Jack really did try to do things right, and liked it when he learned something new. And while he felt he could help with making things more secure, he didn’t want to interfere.

This morning was strange, though. Now Mrs. Hatcher knew. She knew too much. He wasn’t desperate now. That’s all that mattered. Now. And helping her with this was fine, but the only reason she’d asked was because of how much he knew about being desperate. She’d always think of him that way now. He was embarrassed to go to work now, to help her with moving stuff around. The word echoed in his head... desperate. What did Katherine know about being desperate? Everything, dumbass. He had told her everything. But she wasn’t supposed to tell the whole world. He’d never asked for her help with Mrs. Hatcher. He just wanted to tell her about what happened, and that for the second miracle in his life (she was the first, of course), he had not ended up beat up and in jail. That’s all. Nothing needed to be fixed. But now it did.

And now what, with Conrad. Looking at him. Did he think Jack was desperate too? Just get his coat. Get in the carriage and get going.

“Conrad.” Jack had to know.

“Yes, Jack.”

“Do you know more about me now than you did yesterday?”

“Yes, Jack.”

Shit. “How much more?”

“Considerably.”

Shit. “Everything? She told you everything?”

“I can’t be sure, but it feels that way.”

“Why?”

“I asked.”

Jack sat back, stunned. “Why? What did I do wrong now?” he asked, dully trying to figure it out. Jack had tried to be so good. He cleaned the clinic every night. He kept his room tidy. He was never late. Well, except once. He was studying every night. Well, except last night. Maybe that was enough to make Conrad decide he didn’t want him here anymore.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Jack. Katherine is the only person who could tell me about you. And maybe Mary. I didn’t want to upset you by asking you questions all the time.” Conrad looked over at Jack. Jack looked away.

So Katherine knows everything? She doesn’t know anything. She knows what she saw and what he had told her. She doesn’t know how any of it felt. Inside. When your jaw and throat get tired from trying not to scream. When you forget what number you’re on and pray it doesn’t start over. You start to sweat. When you are trying not to cry and he slaps you hard across the face. Again. When your feel the metal on your wrists and try not to breathe too fast. When you feel glad you beat the dog for the food. When you sell papes outside a restaurant and think about going to the back door to beg. You don’t want to. But it might be the smart thing to do if a little hasn’t done well that day. Jack pushed his wrist into his eye.

Conrad

I’d lost him. I’d frightened him again. He was far away from here, I could tell. His fists clenched and unclenched. His leg bounced fast. After a while he wiped away a tear with the inside of his wrist. 

“You still want me around?” he asked, his voice strangled.

Now I was the one stunned into silence. He needed an answer, though. “Yes. Of course I do.”

“I ain’t good enough to be here, am I. I don’t need to be no charity case. I can go back. You and Kath and Mrs. Hatcher can all feel good about helping a desperate, worthless asshole like me who didn’t do nothing right ever. You can write each other letters about me. You don’t need me. The Hatchers don’t need me. And Katherine just wants to feel good about rescuing a newsie after all, is that it.” The bitterness overflowed in his voice.

I stopped the carriage. “Jack, look at me.” He wouldn’t. “Jack, please look at me.” Still nothing. “Jack, I had to know. I wanted to understand you and learn what I could about Mary. You are not a charity case. You work hard for me and the Hatchers. They know that, and I know that. You earn your pay and your room and board.” He stopped bouncing his leg.

“Can we keep going, please, Conrad?” he asked.

I started us up again. “I’m sorry. I really am. And perhaps Katherine should not have shared all of that with me without talking to you first. I think she meant well. Please forgive her, Jack. Or at least think about it. You’ll have time to think, you know. Mrs. Williams is known for her long labors, so we might be gone for a while.” We rode for a few more miles in silence.

“Conrad.”

“Yes, Jack.”

“I didn’t pack the dinner Ella sent to the clinic. It’s still on the exam table. I’m sorry.”

“Well, then, we’re in for a long night.”

“Yes, sir.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Jack! Jack, you up?” Sam came into the clinic. Silence. The storage room door was shut. “Jack, wake up. Dad let you sleep in a little and I came with some breakfast for you. I gotta go, though. I don’t want to be late.” More silence.

“Jack!” he shouted. He banged on the door and opened it. Jack was sound asleep, face down, blanket still folded at the end of the cot. Damn. His back. “Get up. You’re gonna be late, like me. Dad says you owe me an hour of math tonight, by the way.” He kicked the cot. Jack jerked, curling into a ball, covering his head with his arms.

“Jack, it’s me, Sam. Time to eat.” Jack sat up, stared at Sam, and shook his head. He reached for his boots, hand waving in the spot where they should be. “You still got them on,” Sam said, pointing.

“You better have some coffee, Sammy,” Jack muttered. He ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed his shirt. Sam backed out of the storage room and set the basket on the exam table.

”Why don’t you go on, Sam. I’ll get the plates back to Ella for you.” Sam turned gratefully to Katherine and took off.

Jack came out of the storage room, slipping on his shirt. “Well, who do we have here. Bringing a desperate guy some breakfast?”

“I’m sorry? I thought I’d come see you this morning. I got a little lonely last night,” she said, slowly opening the basket, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

“You heard me,” Jack said, his voice rising. “Desperate. That’s me, right? That’s what you think of me?” 

“Jack, what are you talking about?” Katherine searched his face. “Have some breakfast.”

“Maybe I’m not desperate enough for breakfast. Maybe Mrs. Hatcher can decide if I’m hungry enough.”

“Oh, Jack, is that what this is about? Mrs. Hatcher needed to know that you could help her! That you were good! Honestly, I was just trying to be helpful,” she said.

“And who asked you to be? You think I’m helpless? You thought being helpful was telling her I’m desperate? I’m here now! I’m not desperate now!” Jack looked at Katherine, unblinking, moving in closer.

“I didn’t say you were desperate now, Jack. I said you had been!” she said angrily. “And weren’t you? Tell the truth. You were desperate the first day I saw you. And the next time, and the times after that, both in and out of jail, if you remember. So yes, desperate.”

“It’s the same difference to the people here! Then or now! To Mrs. Hatcher. I don’t need her pity. I need the job there, Kath. It’s fine working there! She didn’t know no better. We were doing fine until you showed up. They show me the work, and I do it. Even if I screw it all up they don’t hit me or nothing. They pay me good. It’s fine!” he shouted.

“It’s not fine! She wanted you arrested, Jack! You have more to offer them and you know it!” she shouted back.

“I... DON’T... CARE.” Jack swept his arms back, jutting his face out towards Katherine. The basket crashed to the floor.

Katherine slapped him with all of her strength.

Conrad

Dinner was quiet. Jack ate. And ate. I looked at Katherine and smiled. She weakly smiled back.

“Jack,” I said, “I don’t believe Katherine has seen the flowers in bloom by the pond yet. Why don’t you take her down there after dinner?” He finally looked up at me. Clearly he’d rather chew off his own arm. I tilted my head so he’d know I meant it.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’d be happy to do that.”

Jack

There. She saw the flowers. Maybe she’d want to throw some of them on Mama’s grave. “So, seen enough? I got math to do with Sam tonight.”

“I suppose,” Kath sighed. “I should prepare for my meeting in Portland tomorrow anyway.” 

“Fine,” said Jack. “Let’s go back then.”

“Jack, I went to see Mrs. Hatcher this afternoon. To apologize. I’m sorry I interfered.” Katherine took Jack’s hand. “I said I’d write her the nicest article about the store she could ever imagine. And I will.”

“What did she say?” Jack asked sourly.

“That you had good ideas. She’s coming around, Jack.” Jack looked at Katherine. He wiggled his hand a little.

“Was she drunk.”

“I think so, yes.”

Jack laughed. “You know, I think I need to stop by the clinic to pick up, um, something for Conrad.”

“Is that right.”

Jack had never imagined anything as soft as Katherine. The clinic door had hardly shut when she began unbuttoning her blouse. Jack’s mouth went dry. His lips, his hands, trembled as they touched her. He took her to the cot and shut the storage room door. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Jack,

How are you. We are fine. School is going good at night. I still got youre cote how do I get it back to you. I hope you like youre new jobs.

Youre best friend,  
Crutchie

Dear Jack,

I hate the school at nite. The teacher is dum. I can add better than he can. I make the littles come. I pay if they aint got the penny. Sometimes Race pays. If they do dum shit I smak there heads good. They should listen.

Albert

Dear Jack,

I hope you are good. We are all doing good. Crutchie and me are learning to write good. I make Albert go to school. He said fite me so I did and I won. He is good at math. Are you a doctor yet.

Your friend,  
Racetrack

Dear fellas,

Maine is good. I am working a lot at a store and with Dr. Schmidt. I have my own room and bed. It is quiet. Not loud like you. Katherine is here visiting. Crutchie you can keep the coat. I bot Sam's old coat from him here. He is taller than me but the coat is nice still. I study every night. Sometimes I feel dumb. But I can write a letter now and I bet I am better at math than Albert. I have learned a lot of medical words too.

Your friend,

Jack


	7. Chapter 7

“Jack, help!” Jack bolted upright on his cot in a cold sweat. Crutchie. No. It couldn’t be. Crutchie wasn’t here beside him. Dammit. Last night it had been Albert being dragged off by the bulls. Race had been beaten up the night before that. The littles begging him for a story the night before Race. Jack rubbed his eyes and shivered. He put on Sam’s old coat and laid down again under his blanket, eyes wide open in the dark.

Conrad

Does he think I won’t notice the rings under his eyes? Or that he’s stopped putting wood in the stove overnight? I can tell a frozen clinic from a chilly clinic. Doesn’t want to use it all up, sure. He put wood in for all of October, but now, nothing. He’s mixing up instruments. He won’t talk to me on our rides.

“Jack, what is going on. I know something is bothering you.” The barn is always private.

“Nothing, Conrad, really. I just ain’t been sleeping so good.” Jack busied himself unhitching the horse and getting her in her stable.

“And why is that?”

“Just some dreams is all. They’ll go away, I promise.”

“What kind of dreams?” I have learned to be persistent.

“The fellas, you know. In trouble or something. Albert probably is anyway,” Jack looked at me and smiled.

“Are you worried about them? Did they say anything in their letters that is bothering you?”

“Not really. Conrad, it’s nothing. I’ll do better. I won’t let you down.” Jack closed the stable door.

“Why aren’t you putting wood in the stove for overnight? Maybe you’re having nightmares because you’re cold.”

“I ain’t having nightmares. And I don’t want to use up your wood supply is all. I’m fine. I got a coat and a blanket. Better than most days before coming here.” He grinned at me. That coat, honestly. He had to buy it from Sam, stubborn kid. No gifts around here, no sir.

“Jack. Tell me why.” Persistence, Conrad. Keep going.

Jack looked at me. “Okay. Fine. Them boys don’t have no wood stove at night. There’s one downstairs but not upstairs. Don’t no one want to sleep on the floor downstairs cuz it’s so drafty. What makes me so special that I get a stove? How is Crutchie keeping warm? I kept him warm before. He don’t say if Race or Albert or someone is doing that now. What if he’s cold? I ain’t there to help him. He has a hard time staying warm. There’s not much to him.”

Aha. “Making yourself cold doesn’t make Crutchie warmer, you know.”

“It makes me feel better,” Jack said crossly.

“Does it? You feel good right now, do you? All worn out from shivering all night?” Conrad looked at Jack skeptically. “I’m ordering you to put wood in the stove tonight. And we can send Crutchie a blanket. I’ve got an extra around here somewhere, I’m sure.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack waited a moment. “Conrad?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“I can write better than they can now. I made my letter to them sound like theirs. I even misspelled a word on purpose.”

“I see.” Careful, Conrad. “They want you to be a doctor, Jack. They want you to succeed. They’d be proud of a letter you wrote that shows them what you’ve learned.” We started in toward the house.

“Yes, sir, I know. I just... I don’t want them to think I’m a snob.”

“Jack, please. After what you did with the strike, could they see you as a snob? Let’s have some dinner. You have some grammar to study tonight.”

Jack

Jack sat in the clinic, wrapped in Sam’s coat. He looked at the stove for a long time, and went to bed.

Conrad

I knew it. I sat in the chair in the waiting room, watching the sun’s earliest rays start to light the sky. It was so peaceful. I watched my breath come out in clouds.

“CRUTCHIE!!” Jack cried. Here it was. “Take me! Take ME!”

I opened the door to the storage room. “Jack, wake up,” I said firmly and loudly. “You must wake up now.” 

Jack lay on his cot, rolling back and forth, gripping the blanket.

“Jack, now.” I thundered. “Wake up now.”

Jack opened his eyes and scrambled back. “Conrad! What the hell. What are you doing here?”

“It’s my clinic. Tell me about the dream, Jack. Before you forget.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, sir.”

Not what I meant. “It was about Crutchie. Someone was taking him and you wanted to go,” I prompted him.

“Instead. I wanted to go instead. To the Refuge,” Jack stammered. “I didn’t want him to go. Snyder was holding...” He didn’t continue.

“You didn’t put wood in the stove last night. I ordered you to.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack wiped his face with his wrist.

“Come here, Jack.” Jack got up and rolled his shoulder, watching me carefully. His hands started to close. It hurt a little, that he still thought I would hurt him after all this time. But still he came to me. I put my open hands up slowly and reached for his shoulders. He let me touch him.

“The Refuge is closed. You took care of your friends, especially with the strike. They have a teacher. We’ll send Crutchie a blanket.” I tried to meet his eyes. “You’re a good friend, Jack.” He shook his head.

“You’re a good friend.” I tried again. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Yes, you are. You took care of all of them.”

“I ain’t. I left them.”

“They don’t seem to see it that way. Write to them again. Don’t pretend this time. Jack, I promise they’ll be proud.”

Jack

Jack settled on the chair in the waiting room, leaning over his paper on the table in front of him. He watched the fire for a moment, and then started to write.

Dear fellas,

I thought you might want to hear about one of the calls I helped Dr. Schmidt with. It’s a long story, so get the littles and tell them this is a story from me...


	8. Chapter 8

“Dad didn’t tell you that shoveling is part of the deal?” Sam grinned at Jack, holding out the second shovel. “Get your coat and get out here. He doesn’t like it if the clinic is blocked by snow.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll be right out.”

“You do from here to that corner, and I’ll do the other way, and we’ll split the steps,” Sam instructed. Jack nodded and got to work. Sam finished first and sat on the stoop. “It’s not so bad out anymore, is it,” he said. “It’s kinda warm out. I bet the sidewalk will be completely melted in no time.” 

Jack finished up and sat down next to Sam. “Well good thing we did all this work for the crowds of folks coming to the clinic this morning,” he said, looking down the silent street.

“You can’t predict an emergency,” Sam said, imitating Conrad, shaking his finger at Jack. Jack laughed.

“Jack, can I ask you something,” Sam said.

“Sure.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“I thought you knew. He died when I was ten,” said Jack, turning to Sam. “Got fired from his job when he got sick when I was about nine. That’s when I started working. He got stabbed in a bar one night.”

“Oh. Jeez. So he didn’t, I mean... wait,” said Sam. “I saw your back the other day when I brought your breakfast, and I thought...well, I didn’t know what to think. I thought maybe your dad was mean to you or something.”

“My father hit me with a belt, but not like that,” said Jack. “Nothing like that. No, what you saw was courtesy of the warden and his guards. They really liked me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to... I guess I was just curious,” said Sam. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I knew you had been in jail, but I didn’t know...”

“Don’t worry about it. It used to bother me if people saw the scars, but it doesn’t as much as anymore.” Jack spun the shovel in front of him.

“But wait, if your dad died when you were ten... didn’t you say Mary left when you were twelve?” Sam asked.

“Yup.” Jack stopped the shovel.

“Who did she leave you with?”

“No one.” Jack spun the shovel again. “Why?”

Sam shook his head. “Just trying to figure it out.”

“I been trying to do that for years. It don’t get you anywhere.” Jack looked at Sam. “Did she ever talk about me? I know she didn’t say nothing to your dad, but did she ever say anything to you?”

“No,” said Sam. “Not a word.”

“Shit.” Jack looked up at the sky, shaking his head.

“I know. Sorry.” Sam scraped at the ground with his shovel. “She was really nice to us. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t have nothing to do with it. I just don’t know why she was here being nice to you while I was getting the shit kicked outta me in New York.”

“Are you mad at her?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Me too.”


	9. Chapter 9

Jack missed Katherine. He hunched over next to Conrad, hands in his armpits, glad the day was over. What he wouldn’t give to see her at dinner, or even Sunday afternoon. But her father called, so what else could she do. Pulitzer had paid for the ticket and everything. Two weeks. Merry Christmas. Jack rubbed his ears and put his hands back in his armpits.

“Two days of holiday, Jack, how about that. I’ve forbidden everyone from having babies or accidents tomorrow and Thursday.” Conrad smiled over at Jack. “Do you think they’ll listen?”

Jack tried to smile back. Holidays. He would work tomorrow morning at the store, but after that, nothing until Friday. He wasn’t sure how to ask Conrad where he was supposed to go. Not Conrad’s problem, Kelly. Grow up.

Jack walked back to the clinic after dinner, tense. Conrad had included Sundays in his room and board from the start. But he’d never told Jack about holidays. Thanksgiving had been taken up with the arrival of the Patterson twins. How much did he want? What if he couldn’t afford it? What would happen then? When would he want to be paid? Up front, probably. Jack hated the thought of using his school savings, though. He’d have to buy some food tomorrow no matter what. No more stealing, especially at Christmas. Kath’s room? That would be strange. Ella would hear him for sure. Basement of the store? Not with the Hatchers upstairs. They’d want rent too. Not too many abandoned buildings in a little town like this. He could hop a boxcar for a couple of days, maybe. And show up with another broken hand? Conrad would kill him. He could get Connor to arrest him and put him in jail, but Conrad would not only kill him but be embarrassed. Connor might break his hand too. A barn? Maybe. That could work. The church? It had worked in Manhattan.

Jack slipped over to the church. Yes, unlocked. The moonlight shone on the pews of the little sanctuary. He lifted the trap door to the basement. Just one room. No place to hide. He pulled the trapdoor to the attic. Dust poured down on his head. Shaking it off, he climbed up the ladder and peered up into the space. He could see the stars through the little windows on each end. It would do, he thought. Ain’t nothing stored up here but some boxes. Just keep quiet during the service tomorrow night. Satisfied, he closed the door, scattered the dust around on the floor with his foot, and headed back to the clinic.

Jack wrapped up the dried apples and nuts as he finished at the store. So nice, Mrs. Hatcher said, that he was contributing to Christmas with the Schmidts. He had smiled and wished her a merry Christmas. She had handed him a small package and smiled back. Jack blinked. Scratching at the concrete. And here he was, working in a store in a nice shirt, getting a Christmas present. Thank you, he had rasped. Thank you. Mrs. Hatcher had reminded him not to be late on Friday. No, ma’am. He wouldn’t be. 

Jack didn’t have to wait long for it be dark. He wrapped up his gifts for the Schmidts in some newspaper and left them by the back door of Conrad’s house. He swiftly climbed the ladder to the attic of the empty church and got settled in behind the boxes. A book, his food, his extra shirt. All set. He opened the little package from Mrs. Hatcher. Gloves. Oh my, they were warm. He admired them on his hands, making fists, rubbing his hands together, stretching them out. She was a wonder. He kept them on, sitting motionless as he heard people coming in, as the service started, as they sang, as the pastor spoke, as they filtered out. At last, silence. Jack put on his extra shirt over his good one, put his coat back on, admired his gloves one last time, and slept.

The next morning he made a quick trip to the washroom and then climbed back up to the attic. He hoped Conrad and everyone liked their presents. Were they opening them now? Did they sleep in on Christmas? Maybe Conrad got them other presents they liked better. Probably. Jack wished he could be there, but he’d just be in the way. Conrad had never said anything about Christmas Day. He wanted it private, then. No wonder the Ryans had made him sit on the steps. He wondered if Crutchie had gotten his latest story to read to everyone. 

He peered out the window to see what the view actually was. He could see the clinic from here. What was Sam doing standing there? He watched as Sam went back inside, and then came back out and leaned on the post, looking up and down the street. Finally he shrugged and walked back towards his house. No patients for Conrad. He’d be happy about that.

Conrad, Christmas Day

I will never understand this boy. I’ve tried and tried, for months. Who disappears on Christmas? No dinner on Christmas Eve, no sign of him at church or the clinic. Gloria said he’d been at work and done fine. He’d even bought some food to bring for dinner—an extravagance for him. His extra shirt is gone. The telegram from Katherine said he hadn’t been to see her in New York. He had been here, leaving his presents for us. How dare he wreck this day. After all I’ve done for him. No wonder the warden beat him, a thought I immediately retracted, praying for forgiveness.

How could he leave us such wonderful gifts and then run away? Never, never will I understand.

Conrad, the day after Christmas

Jack had the nerve to show up today, coming straight from the store. He put his extra shirt on his hook as I glared at him.

“How was your Christmas, Conrad?” he asked cheerfully. “Look at the gloves Mrs. Hatcher gave me.” He held them up as he pulled them off and put them in his coat pocket. He hung up his coat, his expression changing dramatically as I came over to him. He backed up and put up his hands, palms out.

“Where were you?” I tried so hard to stay calm. He had to trust me. Even after all this. “Where the hell were you?”

Jack put his hands down. “Around. Why?”

“Why?? It was Christmas, if you remember!” I stared at him, exasperated. “Where did you go?”

“What does it matter? Did you get my presents?” he asked.

“Yes, we did. Why weren’t you there to give them to us yourself?” I tried, again, so hard, not to shout.

“I didn’t think I should come. I didn’t want to get in the way. And I didn’t know how much you wanted for the holidays, so I thought I’d just save the money. For school...” he faltered.

“How much I wanted?” I hoped I wasn’t hearing this.

“For rent. We didn’t work for two days.” Jack backed up again as he looked at my face. “I didn’t know how much you wanted,” he repeated. I closed my eyes. This boy. Open them, Conrad. You have to keep going.

“I’m going to ask one last time. Where. Were. You.”

Jack swallowed and looked at the door. “The attic of the church.”

“The attic of the church.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That whole time.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you didn’t come to my house because...”

“I didn’t think I should, like I said.” He edged toward the door.

I stepped in front of him. “Did you need an invitation to your own family’s Christmas?”

Jack said nothing. He looked across the room.

“Jack, I don’t understand. You wrote such beautiful stories for us, and on such beautiful paper. We loved them.”

“I ain’t your family, Conrad. I ain’t gonna wreck your Christmas.” He grabbed for the doorknob. I grabbed his arm, blocking the door with my foot. We looked at each other, speechless.

Jack

Could he really have had a Christmas where he brought a present to the front door? Where they waved goodbye to him at the end of the day? He remembered selling papes on Christmas, hoping for a tip from those families. Mrs. Jacobs had waved to him. She had waved and smiled, every time. Her cheek, kissing him. His stomach hurt.

But what if he’d come to the door and Conrad had not been happy to see him? Sam and Sarah looking at each other, wondering what he was doing there.

Conrad was talking. Talking. Did he need an invitation? Jack was too embarrassed to say yes. It would sound all wrong. His own family? The fuck? He should go. Conrad wouldn’t let him. Okay, old man.

Jack wrapped his arms around Conrad and threw him to the floor. Conrad rolled on top of him, first pinning his elbows on Jack’s shoulders and then sitting on his chest, pinning Jack’s arms to his sides. Jack’s legs came up to try to pull Conrad backwards, but Conrad leaned forward. Jack squirmed hard and tossed Conrad off sideways. He jumped toward the door, but Conrad grabbed his foot and brought Jack crashing down again. 

“Jack, stop!” Conrad gasped. “Stop!”

Jack stopped, curled in a ball by the door. Conrad crawled over to him and put his arms around him. Jack held still. He felt Conrad lift him up so they were facing each other, kneeling on the floor, out of breath. Jack’s breathing slowed.

Lord. What had he done. 

Conrad

What had I done.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack

Jack reached up and over his head, pausing to hold his open hand up to Conrad for a moment as he did so. Nothing to worry about. He pulled his shirt off. He went to the exam table, set his feet, and gripped the edge. 

He looked over at Conrad. “You can use whatever you want.” He rubbed his cheek on the inside of his upper arm, and looked down at the exam table. “Tell me if you want me to count.”

Conrad

Sweet Jesus. I staggered to my feet.

“Jack.” I went over to him. “Jack, I could never do that to my son.”

“Yeah? Lucky him.” Jack kept looking down. “I’m ready.”

“I’m talking about you. I could never do that to you.” I ran my hand over his back. He flinched, then relaxed. I kept rubbing his back. “I don’t know when you stopped being just Mary’s boy and started being mine too. But I’m here to tell you that you and Sam are the same to me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Can we try Christmas again? Tonight, when we’re done? Your presents are still waiting for you. We can eat leftovers from yesterday. We can read your beautiful stories out loud.”

“You gonna whip me or not.”

“I am not. Not ever.” I put his shirt on the table in front of him.

He rubbed his face on his arm again, and turned to look at me, arms still braced on the table. “For sure?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then, I’m not likely to start now, am I.”

Jack took his shirt and put it back on. “Do I still live here?”

“Yes.”

“Conrad... I never... I just wanted to stay out of the way. I didn’t mean to fight you. I...” He concentrated on his buttons.

“I know. The best thing we can do is do Christmas again tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack

Conrad hadn’t lied. They did have leftovers, and Jack did have gifts waiting for him. A coupon to resole his boots. Conrad had noticed the holes. A book from Sarah. A scarf from Sam. And then they asked Jack to read his stories to them. He didn’t need to read them off the page, but he held each scroll of paper as he told each story. A damsel named Sarah. A knight named Sam. And a hero named Conrad.


End file.
